Revan the Barbarian
by The Karlminion
Summary: This is a KotOR fic. Many mysteries await those who can stick with it for long enough... or something like that. I suck at summaries, so just read the thing, please?
1. Prologue: the Endar Spire 'Incident'

_Following the very profound advice of Prisoner 24601, I have made several revisions to this story. Most notably is the lack of a separate chapter for A/Ns. But the name is the same; I like it, so it won't change._

_Now pay attention, I'm only gonna say this once.- I wrote this, yet it isn't mine, most of it. What isn't mine belongs to LucasArts and Bioware, praise be unto their names._

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_**Revan the Barbarian- Prologue   
**__**The Endar Spire 'Incident'   
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_Darkness... flashes of light in the background..._

_Booming noises... the scream of men dying..._

_Running, running... someone screaming... "Alistair! Alistair!" _"Alistair!" 

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Alistair Smethwycke awoke from his nightmare screaming.

He flailed out at whoever was yelling at him, and managed to entangle himself in the sheets. He then fell to the ground in an undignified heap. Whoever was yelling at him proceeded to shake him in addition to the yelling.

"Come on, you big lunk! We've got to help out; we're being boarded!" _Boarded_. Those words startled Alistair out of the fog he was in and alerted him to reality; his dream was coming true, sort of.

He disentangled himself and stood, trying to think of what he should do. He turned and saw the person who had been yelling at him. "Trask?"

"Yes, it's me! Now get your gear and come on!" _My gear... oh yeah_. He turned and walked to a locker on the floor next to his bed. Opening it, he removed a complicated mess of straps, woven metal, and thick plating. He then removed a backpack, storing the mass in it. _No time to mess with that_.

Digging further, he removed a gigantic cortosis-weave vibrosword and an oversized blaster pistol with a bunch of tubes hanging from the back. He put that in the backpack as well. _No time for that, either. _Finally, he came upon a smaller blaster and a regulation suit of armor. He tossed the blaster to Trask and donned the armor. "Alright, Trask. Let's go."

"Took you long enough. Alright, the room is in lockdown, so I've got to unlock it. What are those codes...?" He ran to the door and fiddled with a small console; the door opened with a swoosh. The two men ran down the hallway, passing a droid attempting to repair the wall. They came to another door.

"Damn, I forgot the codes for this! I'll have to..." "No time." With that, Alistair stepped forward and, with a mighty shout, swung his gigantic sword and broke the door down. Trask stared in shock. "What in the galaxy are you?" "Mandalorian. Come on!"

They were stopped by a blast of static from Trask's belt. Then it cleared. _"This is Carth Onasi. The ship is taken and we're being overrun! All hands to the bridge. Repeat: all hands to the bridge!" _Trask's eyes went wide. "If Carth Onasi says things are over with, then they are. He's seen more combat than the rest of us put together; if he says so, than it's so! Come on, we've really gotta hurry!"

The hallway beyond was filled with smoke; the sizzle and crack of blasters could be heard. Trask ran forward, waving his blaster and shouting, "For the Republic!" The embattled Republic Marines were struggling to hold off the Sith boarding party. Trask's charge inspired them, so they yelled too. Suddenly the Sith were the ones under pressure.

Alistair followed as well, but he let the others do the fighting; there was no challenge in these Sith flunkies. The Sith were dead by the time he reached the end of the hall.

The party of soldiers continued onward, decimating the Sith as the came upon them. They were almost to the bridge when the sound of lightsabers reached them. Trask held up his hand. "The Sith brought Dark Jedi with them? Damn! Well, it looks like that Jedi has him taken care of- Alistair, stop! You can't fight them!" But Alistair wasn't listening; he was running forward to engage the Dark Jedi. _A challenge!!_

The Dark Jedi was focused upon the younger Jedi before him. So he didn't notice the huge blade coming down on him until it was almost too late. Almost. He dodged in time, though, and had to dodge again as Alistair swung his sword around in a counter-arc. That failed to connect as well, so he spun in a wide circle and brought his blade forward to impale his opponent. This time, he made it.

The foe stared at him through darkened, hate-filled eyes. He raised his hand to perform some Force trickery or other, but he was stopped by the other Jedi, who had brought up his saber to decapitate him.

As the head rolled across the floor, he turned to Alistair and offered his hand. "Thank you for saving me. My name is Saino Raisier, and I am part of Bastila's team."

Before Alistair could answer, Trask was in his face. "You idiot! Going up against a Dark Jedi like that, you could have been killed! Don't ever do that again!" Alistair stared blankly down at the smaller, older man. "Hey. I'm alive, aren't I? Now stow it."

Trask was taken aback. "I was just worried about you, man. Don't... don't get mad or anything..." "I'm not mad. I just don't like people yelling in my face. Got it?" "Yeah, got it. Come on, the bridge is just up ahead."

As they approached the door, the remaining Marines stowed their rifles and brought out their own vibroblades, while Saino reignited his 'saber and fiddled with a few small dials to shorten the blade. Trask also pulled out a short sword. "Alistair, that behemoth of yours won't work well in the confines of the bridge. Don't you have something smaller?" Alistair nodded; he switched his hands on the grip of his sword. Then he brought his right hand up to grab one of three handholds in the back of the blade. His sword was now a lance, of sorts. "This will work in close quarters. Now..." He stepped forward to open the door to the bridge.

They beheld a fierce fight. Swords clashed as the Marines and the boarding party battled one another. Alistair and his small group charged into the middle of this melee, and the havoc they wrought upon the unsuspecting Sith forces was great.

When all was said and done, Alistair, Trask, Saino, and four Marines were left standing. "Search the bodies for anything useful, and then let's move on." That done, they headed for the escape pods.

They were closing in on the requisite doorway when Trask stopped. "There's something over here..." He went and opened another door further on. And when he did, Alistair wished he hadn't.

For it revealed another Dark Jedi. This one was tall, though not nearly as tall as Alistair. But he exuded a greater sense of raw power, a greater sense of _Force_. _That's it_, Alistair thought. _He must be the Master of this boarding party. Ha ha, a challenge!_

But Trask denied him this challenge. "Damn, another Dark Jedi! You and Saino get out of here; me and the boys will take care of him!" He and the remaining Marines turned and faced the tall, dark man. And with a cry of, "For the Republic!" they were off to their dooms.

Alistair would have run after them, except the Dark Jedi raised his hand and closed the door with the Force, at the same time bringing up his 'saber. Through the door, Alistair and Saino heard the screams of the dying men. "Trask... You were my friend, these last few months. I swear, on Mandalore's helm, your death _will_ be avenged." Saino stood at his side, not knowing what he was doing. But something told him to say, "Heard and witnessed!"

Alistair looked over, faintly surprised. "Oh. I nearly forgot about you, Saino. Those who witness a vow are bound to the same oath as a matter of honor. Since you didn't know that, I'll give you a choice: will you help me? Will you stand by my side as my friend, through thick and thin, unto death or the fulfillment of the oath?"

Saino hesitated. The Jedi Code spoke against such things. But it also spoke about the need to either convert or destroy the Dark Side whenever they could. His mandate as a Guardian gave one option preference over the other. But then, the memory of his Echani grandfather awoke within him. _Here is a chance to match my grandfather._

He nodded; his mind was made. "Very well, Alistair. I take the oath you made as my own. We will fulfill it together." "Well, it doesn't fit the form, but its close enough. Come on! We've wasted time here talking, we've got to move!"

They passed through the doorway to the starboard section, where the escape pods were. Another blast of static, this time from Alistair's communicator. _"This is Carth, again. I'm tracking you two on the life support systems; you're almost there. But a couple of Sith squads are in your way. Hurry, I can't hold them off myself for long!" _Saino looked around the corner; a single Sith soldier stood there. "Be right back, my friend," and with that he pressed a button on his belt. An energy field pulsed into life around him; he faded from sight. Alistair watched the slight haze as it went forth towards their single foe. It circled around and faded, revealing Saino in its place. The foe had no time to react before a dagger found its way through the back of his helmet, plunged in, and slewed back and forth. Blood went everywhere as the foe fell.

Alistair came around and jogged up. "Why didn't you use your 'saber?" "It would have disrupted the distortion field. Plus, the noise would have given me away." "Ah, I see. Let's go." They continued on to a room with a few Sith in it, which were quickly dispatched by the pair. They stopped to look around; a few storage boxes yielded some credits and two plasma grenades, plus a funny-looking vibroblade. "Hey, Alistair. What's wrong with this sword?"

Alistair reached over. "Let me see it. Hmm... it looks modular, like it could be upgraded without real tools." "You mean, like if you were a soldier on the run?" "Yeah."

They were about to open the next door when Carth contacted them again. _"Don't go in there! There's a whole squadron of Sith troopers in that room. Look around; there should be a computer panel that controls the flow of electricity in this section of the ship. See if you can override the circuits in the room."_ Alistair looked to the side, and sure enough, there it was. Walking over to it, he activated it and cruised through the options. "Hmm... camera views... yikes. There are a lot of troopers in there. Okay... ah, there it is." He hit the option he had found and returned to the camera. A huge arc of power streaked through the room, frying about ten of the foe. Unfortunately, three remained standing.

"Damn. It didn't take out all of them." He looked over at Saino. "What do you think, eh, buddy?"

Saino pointed to a corner of the room. "How about that there droid? He looks like he's not doing anything." "I never saw it. But you're right..." He crossed over and pulled open the control panel on the droid's chest. He fiddled with the wires inside, then he pulled a small something from his pocket and slid it in. The droid hummed to life, walked over to the door, and opened it with its remote control. The remaining Sith were no match for the coldly efficient patrol droid.

"That's over with. Search the bodies." Saino found an odd looking device; it looked like it belongs in a weapon of some sort. _'This is interesting. Maybe it goes with that weird sword we found earlier. Hmm...'_

They opened the final door to find Carth waiting for them. "You made it just in time! Hurry up; the ship could blow any minute!" "Hold on. Who are you?" "Carth Onasi, now come on!" Alistair ran over to the final pod; it could only hold two people, and his size would make the tight fit even tighter. But Carth gave him no time to bother with it; he shoved him in, grabbed Saino and threw him in after, then got in himself. He pressed the button next to the opening, and it closed with a hiss of air. Seconds later, a blast of explosives sent the cramped pod hurtling through space. Alistair had been forced to lie on the floor, since he couldn't fit into the restraining straps. So he was thrown backward, where he knocked his head on the walls and lost consciousness.

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Meanwhile, back on the ship, the Dark Jedi stood over the bodies of the Republic soldiers he had killed. Before him, Trask Ulgo kneeled. "Master Bandon, the subject survives. I have much to tell you." "Very good, Trask. Before you tell me anything, get back into form; that disguise must be sickening to you." Trask did not reply. He removed his pack and set it on the floor. He removed his jump suit and threw it to the ground in disgust. He then took a set of Sith robes from the pack and donned them, sighing in relief as he did so. Finally, he removed a thin cylinder of metal from one of the pockets; his lightsaber.

He stood, closed his eyes, and focused for a few seconds. Then his skin changed from the healthy tan of a career soldier to the sickly pale and scarred look of a life-long follower of Darkness. He opened his eyes; they were no longer the scared eyes of a soldier whose ship was going to be destroyed. They were now the dark, greedy, hate-filled eyes of a Sith.


	2. Taris, the First Few Hours

_I put this chapter here because I'm sort of a detail freak. Plus, I can't stand fast-paced KotOR stories. It's a freakin' RPG, people! Star Wars or not, RPGs are supposed to be slow affairs where you take your time, see the sights, smell the roses. At least, that's how _I _feel. What do y'all think?_

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_**Revan the Barbarian- Chapter 1**_

_**Taris, the First Few Hours**_

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The escape pod barreled through space, hurtling towards the cityscape below. Carth and Saino, securely restrained, awaited the crash. Alistair, however, wasn't securely restrained; he was jammed into the space beneath Carth's harness, held by his bulk and his sword, both of which were considerable.

In space behind them, the Endar Spire floated askew for a few seconds more, before a series of explosions ripped through her, ripping her to shreds. Then the engines finally overloaded, and the resulting supernova was quite a sight for the many Tarisians below who had been watching the space battle.

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Unbeknownst to anybody, however, a smaller craft was speeding away from the wreckage. It flew towards another massive ship which had hung back and above the doomed Republic vessel. A large set opened in its hull, and the smaller craft flew in. The doors closed behind it.

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The pod hurtled ever closer to the looming planet before it. It hit the atmosphere, and it started to shake and swerve. Saino, scared and worried, removed his outer tunic and handed it to Carth, who bent down and wrapped it around Alistair's head, to minimize the jolt of impact. It wasn't much protection, but Carth knew from experience that a mere piece of tough cloth could spell the difference between life and death at the hands of a club-wielding Gammorean warrior.

Closer and closer to impact the tiny pod flew. The shock of ramming into the air surrounding Taris had caused it to swerve up a little, which in terms of flat ground was leveling off. It streaked across the sky, trailing smoke and bits of metal.

It struck! First contact was made with a towering spire, and it glanced off in a slightly different angle, some of its velocity lost. It struck a walkway and bounced again, crushing the path and again losing velocity. It finally came to rest at the edge of a platform, embedding itself slightly in the side.

The escape hatch in the side burst open, spilling Carth out onto the ground. Saino followed, attempting to drag the unconscious Alistair behind him. Carth stood and grabbed his shoulders, trying to help. Together they maneuvered Alistair out through the tiny hatch. Saino went back in for the gigantic vibrosword, and he dropped it onto the pavement, staggering slightly. It hit the ground and clanged, but not loudly due to its size keeping it from bouncing.

Carth stood Alistair on his feet, pulled out a medpack, and slapped it over his head. Alistair moaned and shook his head slightly. "Wha... hey, leggo..."

Saino walked over and held his hand up, focusing. A slight glow passed from his hand to Alistair, and the wound in his head stopped. He opened his eyes fully, and looked around. "Where am I?"

"No time, my friend. We must get to shelter before the Sith come down and find us." "Right..." Together, the three men jogged off towards an older building nearby.

Entering, they found that it was done up like a hotel that catered to its customers and didn't ask many questions while doing so; seedy and rundown, in other words. A bored looking Twi-lek man stood behind a counter at the far end. Carth approached him. "Pardon me, are there any vacant rooms?" The alien looked him up and down, muttering to himself. "Hmm...Republic fugitives... Twenty credits a night, fifth floor, second room to the left. We're on your side." Carth looked confused at this last statement, but the other gave him no time for questions. "Here's your key-card. Now get out of here, I don't want another patrol coming through and ruining business."

He pointed towards an elevator in the corner. The three men walked towards it and went up to their floor. Once there, they found their room and discovered a three-bed apartment with basic amenities. Alistair didn't talk; he stumbled forward to one of the beds, collapsed onto it with a loud thud, and promptly fell asleep.


	3. Taris, Preparations for the First Day

_I don't like this chapter; it doesn't flow right, or something. Or maybe it's too technical. Regardless, tell me wha y'all think. Maybe I'll revise it, if I'm so inspired._

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_**Revan the Barbarian- Cht. 2  
Taris, Preparations for the First Day  
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_Darkness, like always… No. Something awaits…_

_Confidence… the feel of metal in the hand…_

_Ah… finally, they come… the intruders…_

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Alistair lay on the bed, tossing and muttering to himself.

Carth and Saino were worried about him; he had been asleep for the past three days. A normal sleeper would have awoken by now. Therefore, this was no ordinary sleep.

Saino knew a little about the deep, almost coma-like slumber that trauma victims usually fell into once things around them were calm enough to allow such a thing. It lasted for a day or so, most of the time, and they were always completely still. No tossing or muttering.

Which led to their worry; he had been sleeping for nearly three days now, and he would have these tossing spells on and off, as if he was trying to awaken, but something was holding him down.

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Far above, within the confines of the _Leviathan_, three figures approached the bridge, where a tall shape was awaiting their presence. All three were older men. One walked with a marked step, the result of a lifetime of military service. The next was slightly hunched, and his eyes glowed red with suppressed fury. The last walked with a kind of swagger, and his purple armor gleamed faintly in the lights of the hallway.

They reached the bridge. The tall man turned to face them, his prosthetic jaw gleaming slightly. The swaggering man started at the sight, but recovered himself quickly. The military man spoke. "Master, this person wished to speak with you. His name is Davik Kang, and he is the crime lord around here."

A raspy, mechanical voice filled the air. "Ah, yes. We have heard of you, Mr. Kang. What do you have to say?"

Kang stepped forward. "Sir, it has reached my ears that you are searching for… a woman. I believe I could help you find her."

The Sith Lord's eyes narrowed. "Oh, can you? And what makes you think our soldiers aren't capable of such a task?"

"The fact that they stand out. It is well known that the swoop gangs hate you, my lord. Well, not you specifically. But they attack your soldiers at every opportunity, and do all they can to hinder your endeavors. Then too, the citizenry feels much the same.

"See, they trust me and my men, to an extent. My men can go places yours cannot; they know the planet better than yours ever will."

"You speak truly, Mr. Kang. But your sort never offer aid without strings attached. What are your strings?"

Kang smiled. "You are observant, my lord. This is my price: access codes to leave the planet, and immunity from your troops. I have business I must attend to, and the economy of my planet cannot be allowed to fail. You understand, of course."

"I do. Very well, your offer is accepted, on these terms: only you and your pilot can know the codes, no one else. I will only authorize one ship to use the codes, so you had better chose your craft wisely. Finally, our quarry must be in our hands in four standard weeks, or we will take… drastic action."

Kang smiled again. "Those terms are acceptable. May I take my leave?" "You may. Saul, show him out. Trask, stay here. You have a report to give, I assume?"

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Carth and Saino had decided to get some sleep, on the reasoning that a watched sleeper never awakens. So they were caught off guard by the sound of a single scream, coming from a slightly disused throat.

They ran in to find Alistair sitting on the bed, looking for all the world like a drunkard after a long night with too much Tarisian ale. He looked up at his comrades-in-arms, and said, "What in blood's name happened to me?"

Carth spoke up. "You hit your head when we got out of the ship. You've been asleep for a few days now. Do you remember anything?"

Alistair groaned and held his head, rubbing it while trying to focus. He looked up and said one word: "Bastila."

"Yeah, what about Bastila?"

"She was the commanding officer. Pompous little thing, but she'd be a challenge if ever we had to fight."

"Well, let's hope that never happens. Now, Saino and I have been scouting things out here, and what we've found isn't good. The Sith have been here for some time, exercising their might and making noise, but nothing serious. However, in the last few days they've put a blockade in place, and the economy is already showing the signs.

"We've asked around, and several Republic escape pods have fallen to the surface; some say about twenty in all. It looks like ours was the only one to fall in on the Upper City; the rest have gone through to the Lower City, and one or two have penetrated all the way to the Under City."

Alistair stood and thought about what he had just heard. _Knowing our luck, she'll be in the Under City, whatever that is_. "Saino, have you been advertising the fact that you are a Jedi?"

"I've tried not to. My robes blend in pretty well, and the Sith grunts don't look too closely; I've got the feeling they're tired of this place."

Alistair snorted. "I would be too, if I was stationed here for any length of time. Really, I've never even heard of Taris! What do you know about it, Carth?"

The other soldier frowned for a second in concentration. "Well, the planet's all one big city, rather like Coruscant. But unlike Coruscant, Taris has long since seen her prime. She used to be a beautiful place, since she was at or near the crossing of several trade routes. But with the discovery of new hyperspace technology and the invention of better ships, Taris has become unnecessary. So she's been fading ever since.

"The city is divided into three sectors; the Upper, Lower, and Under Cities. The Upper City is where most of the life still hangs on. You know, the nobility, the prosperous traders, and the main businesses. You won't find many aliens because the humans are very haughty and prideful. It's all very fine, but you can tell its faded, or an act.

"The Lower City has been overrun by swoop gangs, crooks, and aliens. What law exists down there is made by the stronger gangs, not the government or the Sith. It's a brutal existence, but if they're like any other slum they won't ask many questions.

"The Under City is the worst. Outcasts from the Upper City are sent there to either die or eke out some sort of life. The sun hasn't reached that place in years; it's pretty pathetic. I would advise not going down there unless we absolutely have to."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Saino, it would probably be prudent if you continued hiding the fact that you are a Jedi. Find some normal clothes, and don't use your 'saber. Here, use the vibroblade we found on the Sith."

Alistair handed him the sword in question. Saino took the weird device he had found on another Sith corpse from his bag and attempted to insert it, without any luck. "Alistair, you said these didn't need any tools. Well, I have no tools, and I also have a surplus of bad luck here. What's up?"

Alistair pointed at a bench next to the wall. "I said they didn't need fancy, sophisticated tools. That table is equipped with everything you'll need." Saino grumbled, but did as he was told. Soon, he was engrossed in what he was doing.

Alistair watched for a few minutes, then turned and walked to his bag. _I should get ready, too_, he thought. With that in mind, he reached in and pulled out the mass of metal and leather. Carth looked on. "Hey, what is that?"

"Mandalorian dueling armor. It's lighter than assault armor, but still a lot heavier then anything else I've ever seen." "Huh. I don't see how you get it on. It looks like a bunch of chain weave and metal plates held together with a bunch of strapping. How does it work?"

Alistair chuckled. "I figured you'd say that. Watch and learn." He began untangling part of the leather, separating and lining it up. Then he pulled on one part of the chain weave, and it uncoiled into a sleeve-like form. He did the same with the other side.

Then he picked it up and shook it out; lo and behold, an armored shirt. He slipped it on over his head, the shoulder plates falling into place nicely. Carth noticed something. "Hey, why does it leave your stomach uncovered?"

Alistair laughed again. "Because I'm not through yet. Now hush, and keep watching." He picked up another bunch of armor and shook it out; pants. He put them on, and pulled up on a flap that would come up and cover the area Carth asked about. Several little slots provided space for the various straps on the shirt to go in and back out, where buckles hooked them back onto each other.

He reached behind himself, where a large plate covered his back. Several hooks hung down over the pants, and they were connected to the requisite slots. However, several still hung about, with no apparent companion hook.

He looked down; a few more plates remained. He picked up one that was shaped like a chest plate, and held it against his chest while he buckled the hanging straps into their respective slots. Only four plates, a pair of gauntlets, a belt, and the oversized blaster pistol remained in the bag.

The gauntlets were attached to bracers by a series of links. The bracers had more little hooks on the bottom, where they attached to his arm. Then three more straps were wrapped around and around the bracers to ensure they didn't slip at inopportune moments.

The four plates went onto his legs; shin guards and thigh guards. Finally, the belt went around his waist, and the final few hooks and straps were put into place. He then reached into a pocket on the side of the bag and removed a bunch of strange devices. These devices hooked onto the belt, where hidden wires were attached to them. These wires traveled throughout the armor, integrated with the hooks and straps.

Alistair stood, almost ready for battle; a few more touches were needed. First, his gigantic sword was placed into its scabbard, and the scabbard was strapped and hooked to his back. The tubes on the gun were sorted out, and then attached to ports in the left gauntlet. A holster hung ready at his side, a part of the armor. The gun went into it.

Those tubes snaked up his left arm, and hung out behind his shoulder. The plate on this shoulder was humped up, higher then the other; a device was underneath it, and the tubes were connected to it. Wires hanging from the back were then attached to the requisite devices on his belt.

At last, all was in readiness. A flick of a switch on one of the devices on his belt, and the whole lot stirred into mechanical life; slight humming noises emanated from it. Another flick of another switch, and a field of sorts flickered into life; the humming noise faded. A final switch; the device on his shoulder turned on. Fluid began flowing through the tubes; the device was a pump.

Alistair pulled the gun out again. It was an impressive sight; three and a half feet long, multiple barrels, lots of buttons and switches. He examined the barrels; six smaller ones surrounded a much larger one. He spun them around; a satisfying growl of energy came forth from it.

He turned a dial, flipped a switch, and spun the barrels again; the growl was higher pitched, not quite so threatening. Then he spun and shot the wall. The blast flew through the air, struck the wall, and dispersed; a stun shot. He flipped another switch, flicked off the first one, and shot again; a bolt of plasma shot forth, and once again struck and dispersed on the wall, leaving a burn mark. Carth, having gotten over his initial shock, whistled. "Variable power levels. Nice." "Isn't it, though? But I'm not through yet; keep watching."

He flicked yet another switch, and flipped off the other. This time the shot was a standard blast, striking the wall and bouncing off and up towards the ceiling, where a small explosion indicated its demise. He then flipped on all the switches, turned the dial up slightly, and moved a small lever from one setting to another. He pulled the trigger and held it for a second while energy built up within the chambers of the barrels. He released the trigger, and a large blast hurtled forth and exploded against the wall, nearly blowing it out. Carth yelled, "Hey! Are you trying to get us kicked out?!? Don't do that!" Saino cursed and dropped the sword and his tools. "Do you two mind? I'm working here! Sheesh…"

Alistair ignored them, however. He turned the dial back down and moved the lever again. He pulled the trigger, and a rapid stream of various energy types flew forth at the wall, dispersing harmlessly. He stopped after about three seconds. "That was all on the lowest power setting, except for the charge shot; that would take too long to charge on the lowest setting. You don't want to see any of those blasts when it's on full power."

He put the blaster back into the holster, and walked over to Saino. "Hey, you got that sword fixed up yet?" "Yep. You guys ready?" "Hold it. Carth, that jacket of yours isn't gonna do much. You'd better get something else." Carth chuckled. "That's what they all say. Look here." He unzipped the front and pulled on a seam inside, to reveal a section of chain mail sewn into the lining. "It's cortosis alloy, too. There's also a field generator for when we're up against blasters. So don't you worry about me, ok?" "Alright, Carth. Well, let's get out of here."

They walked out of the apartment and headed for the elevators. But they were stopped by the sight of a Sith patrol harassing a couple of Duros workers. The officer in charge was pissed off at something, and she was taking it out on the helpless aliens. "Alright, you alien scum. Everybody up against the wall! This is a raid!" One of the Duros made a mistake when he spoke up against them. The officer pulled her rifle and blasted the alien's stomach out. "That's how we Sith handle smart-mouthed aliens. Now, up against the wall!"

Saino was starting to loose his temper at the mistreatment of the innocent workers. He stepped forward, drawing his blade at the same time. "Hey you! Pick on someone your own size!" The officer whirled about, her eyes wide. "Jedi robes? They're republic fugitives! Shoot them!"

Saino threw himself forward and cut down one of the patrol droids before it could bring its weapon to bear, while Carth shot the second one into rubble with surgically precise use of his blasters. That left Alistair to deal with the officer. She snarled and drew a pair of vibroblades. "Die, Republic scum!" With that, she ran at Alistair.

Alistair had little time to react; the officer was rather fast. _Hmm… this could be a challenge!_ He threw himself to the side just in time, spinning and drawing his huge sword at the same time. He brought it up just as the officer spun in a counter slash, nearly decapitating him. She followed up with a quick series of blows from her blades, using a style that spun in constant circles that made full use of the few defensive opportunities afforded by the use of two blades.

Alistair saw all this with his mind's eye, and automatically figured that with the size of his sword compared with hers, he would need all his speed and power; therefore, a two-handed grip was needed. So he jumped back and held his sword accordingly, in low stance with sword held high, which presented his lower torso and his legs to his opponent as bait.

She took it, with both swords cutting down in a scissor-like strike intended to cut through flesh and leave the victim legless. She didn't count on his armor being able to withstand vibroblades, nor did she count on his huge sword stabbing done and impaling her to the floor.

Carth and Saino had dispatched the remaining droids in the few seconds that Alistair and the officer had taken while they fought. The remaining Duros mourned his friend for a second, and then said that he would hide the bodies in a place that would implicate the local gangs. The group of Republic soldiers thanked him and moved on to the elevator, and then on to the Upper City of Taris.


	4. Taris, the First Day

_**Revan the Barbarian- Cht. 2  
The First Day**_

_Intruders… no, hunters…_

_They come… but they will fail…_

_Hmm? That woman... Oh-ho, a challenge!_

"Hello? Taris to Alistair, Taris to Alistair, come in, Alistair." "Huh? Oh, sorry; just… daydreaming, heh…" "Oh? Well, pay attention next time we head out, okay?" "Yeah, sure. Sorry."

The three men- Carth, Saino, and Alistair- stepped out into the filtered sunlight and recycled air that covered the Upper city of Taris, the third planet of the Dynmarias System. They spoke little, for they were warriors, and used to the silence of preparation.

Alistair broke it when he noticed that Carth was staring off into space, not seeing where his feet landed. He stopped and turned to him; he liked his comrades to be focused, not daydreaming. "Carth, what's up?" "Huh? Oh… nothing. Forget it." "No, tell us."

Carth sighed. "Well, if you really want to know… I was thinking of my home world, Telos. The Sith chose that as one of the first 'examples' of their new conquest against the Republic." Anger filled his face as he continued speaking. "We heard the distress signals, and scrambled as fast as possible, but… it was too late. Too late, damn it!"

"Whoa, slow down. You're making sound like it was your fault." "No, it- argh, forget it. I don't like talking about my past, and anyway we've got to concentrate." "I'll have the rest out of you sometime later, then?" Carth glared at Alistair. "What the hell do you care? Alright, fine. Just leave me alone for now, okay?" Alistair nodded and turned around again, but he knew that he would have to pick it back up later on.

They walked in silence for a while, observing the city before them. It was beautiful, in a way; towering skyscrapers, elegantly fluted fountains, paved streets. It wasn't until you look close that you realize what Carth had said earlier; the skyscrapers were cracked and crumbling, the fountains were covered in mold where aging maintenance droids had missed, and the roads were faded, in disrepair.

The people had it, too. They all seemed happy and content, until you noticed the shabby, out-of-date clothes, the strained smiles, the tired air that many had. The Sith grunts wandering about did little to relieve the situation.

They were coming close to a place that had lights and banners strewn about; a cantina, if Alistair was any judge. A group of drunks was loitering about near the entrance, and as the three off-worlders came close, one of the drunkards noticed them and called to the others. "Hey, look you guys! (hic) Shlummies!" "Huh? Oh… (hic) uh, get outta here, shlummies. Go back to your, uh… Lower City!" "Yeah! (hic) Go back down there! We don't deserve to look at your (hic) ugly mugs!"

"Oh great, a pack of drunks. What's next?" Carth muttered. Saino, however, didn't take to their talk very lightly. "You're one to talk about ugly mugs, you pack of drunken idiots. Why don't you stumble back to your filthy beds and sleep it off? Maybe when you wake up you'll look better; then you can talk about ugly mugs." It was a corny insult, and Alistair groaned. The drunkards took offence, however, and one of them drew a blaster. "Shlummies can't just walk up here and prance around, you know! We'll show ya! (hic)" He brought it up and tried to aim, but he stumbled and the gun fell, firing at the pavement.

Alistair let them have five seconds, just to be fair. Then he whipped out his blaster, set it to stun, third power level, and rapid fire, and shot them all in the head, three times in succession. The one with the drawn blaster fell immediately, the other two flew backward before finally crashing down, knocked out cold.

A group of Sith ran over, carbines at the ready. "What's going on here? Drawn blasters aren't allowed, you know!" "Relax, officer. Just taking care of a pack of drunkards." The soldier stopped and looked down at the three stunned men. "Oh, these three again. We've warned them to stay in the cantina or get someone to take them home at nights, but they insist on making trouble. And at this time of day, too! Sorry about that, citizen; they won't bother you again." The soldiers grasped a man each and dragged them off, in what Alistair assumed was the direction of their base. He gestures Saino over. "Turn your cloak on and follow them; it may be to our advantage to know where their base is. We'll wait for you in the cantina, ok?" "Got it." The field flowed into life around him, and the other two were alone.

They headed for the cantina. The doors opened automatically before them, and they stepped out of the cool midmorning air of Taris into the cool midmorning air of the North UpCity Cantina.

It was surprisingly well lit within, and the patrons were unusually well behaved. But that made sense, seeing as how it wasn't even midday yet. Alistair reckoned that the lights went down with the sun, and the ale came up with the moon, if there was one. In front of them was the gaming lounge; an old man was sweating, fumbling his cards, while on the other side a greasy-haired younger man grinned, the picture of cool collectedness.

The last trick was played; Hair Grease won. The old man swore, threw the credit chips at Hair Grease, picked up his cards and stalked off to the other side. Hair Grease noticed the two newcomers and motioned them over. "Ah, new faces! Would either of you be familiar with Pazaak?" "Maybe we are, maybe we aren't. What's it to you?" "Why, I'm just interested in a friendly few rounds. Bets, of course…" He grinned confidently; Alistair noticed that his teeth were too shiny, too white.

Carth made a quick decision. "I'd play you, if I had a deck. Know where I could get one?" The old man overheard, and spoke up. "You can borrow mine, so long as I get ten percent of what you win. If you win…" Carth took him up, and he and Hair Grease sat down to play. "We'll start low, since you're new. Say… twenty credits?" "Yeah, sure."

Half an hour later, Carth was out forty credits. "The galaxy will learn to fear the name of Niklos, the greatest Pazaak player on Taris! You there, giant man. Interested?" Alistair considered the offer. He wasn't good, by Mandalorian standards. But judging by the cards that Niklos pulled from his sleeve every now and then, neither was he. "Sure, I'll play. As soon as you empty your sleeves, that is." This made Hair Grease (as Alistair's mind still insisted on calling him) very mad. "You accuse me of cheating? Me, the greatest player on-"

"Stuff it, Hair Grease. Dump the cards, and we'll play. Don't dump them, and I'll spread the word that Niklos cheats." "No one will believe you! You're just an off-worlder!" "Yeah? How many of your fellow citizens have you fleeced out of all their credits? You look wealthy, you must have fleeced them of more than mere credits…" He looked pointedly at the young Twi'lek girl hanging off of Niklos's arm. She sneered at him.

The man was beside himself. "Fine! We play! One hundred credits!" Alistair chuckled, and conveniently forgot about his challenge to dump his sleeves out. "Sounds good. Let's go."

But not fifteen seconds into it, and Niklos had tried to slide a card from his sleeve. He fumbled it, the card fell, and everybody watching (Carth, Alistair, the girl, and the old man) saw that Alistair was right; Niklos was a cheat. "No! You can't tell anybody! I'm the greatest!" "Really? One more game. The stakes; every last credit you can lay your name on, your decks and spare cards, and… oh, let's see… ah, I know; all your property and that fancy shirt you have on there." It was a ridiculous bet, but Niklos was frantic. But he hadn't lost all his cool. "And if you lose? What will you offer up?" "You're in no position to argue, Niklos. But I'll play fair; if I lose, I won't tell anybody that you cheat, and neither will these people. Right?" He looked around at them, and they all nodded. The old man, however, crossed his fingers behind his back and winked at Carth, who had seen. "And you get this." He unstrapped his scabbard, massive sword still in it, and leaned it against the wall behind him. Niklos gaped at it. "That thing is huge! I could sell it to that Yurt woman…" The thought of money was rapidly calming him down, and he nodded.

They sat down to play. But from the first trick, it was obvious Alistair had the upper hand. Without his cards up his sleeve, Hair Grease was no better than the old man. He held out for a while; Lady Luck was with him for that game, at least at the beginning. But then she left, he got nervous, started fumbling his cards…

In the end, it was the biggest loss in the history of Pazaak on Taris. No longer was Niklos the greatest Pazaak player on the planet; now he was the biggest loser. He was sobbing as he signed the papers that gave Alistair everything he owned, right down to the last piece of property. Which was quite a lot of property, judging by the amount of paperwork. "Is there some way to ensure that everything is here? I don't like swindlers…" This was accompanied by a very fierce glare. The poor man wilted beneath his glance. "I keep my word when it comes to Pazaak… please…" Alistair stared him down a while longer, before muttering "Pathetic wretch," and turning around, picking up his sword, and walking away.

Niklos sobbed, but then he turned and began to walk out of the cantina, pulling on the chains that bound the girl. "Come, Mission. I did not wager you." But she pulled back. "Oh yes you did! He said all your property, remember? That means I belong to him now!" "You'll shut your mouth and come along, if you know what's good for you!" "No! I don't belong to you! Help, I'm being stolen!" The girl had a very loud voice; many people heard, not the least of which was Alistair. He turned back to them; he looked amused. "Hair Grease, are you trying to fleece me?" The other man, already in a rage, suddenly went berserk. "You damned Outworlders! You are the reason we have to endure the Sith! And now you are taking our property away from us! Die!" He drew the blaster which Alistair had so generously left him. Which was a mistake.

The North UpCity Cantina had very strict rules about fights; take it outside, or take it to the dueling ring. The Sith had outlawed the outside, which left the ring. Too often, though, some hothead lost his cool and tried to blast away some other person, or cut them to ribbons depending on their disposition.

So the owners had invested in a security system, which consisted of sensors connected to high-powered stun lasers mounted in recessed panels in the walls. Most of them were in the Pazaak lounge, for obvious reasons.

What all that meant was that the second Niklos drew, he was also flat on the ground, knocked out cold. In the next second the lasers withdrew, the panels closed, and it was business as usual.

The old man gaped, trying to figure out what had happened. Carth and Alistair shrugged; they had seen this sort of thing in cantinas across the galaxy. The girl was unfazed by it. Rather, she was on the floor, having been pulled down when Niklos fell. She didn't remain quiet for long, though. "Hey! You gonna leave a girl on the floor all day?" "You aren't a girl, you're a slave. You're also my slave. But then, there's the fact that I don't like slaves, so…" "Ah, come on. Sure, I'm only fourteen, but I'm good…"

"Get off and go back to your old owner. I'm not into joy girls." She pouted for a second, and then burst into a wave of talk. "But you don't get it! My old master was a Lower City crime boss, and he beat me every day I couldn't dance, which was almost every day because I was always sore, and…" "Okay, fine. What's your name?" She brightened imediately. "The name's Mission Vao. Me and a friend of mine know the Lower and Under Cities better than anybody! I could be really helpful if you have to go down there, that I will!" He stood for a second, then looked back down at her. "Can you use a blaster?"

Mission's face fell back. "Uh, well… sorta. I mean, Zaalbar's tried to teach me, and stuff, but…" "You couldn't shoot to save your life, right?" That made her angry. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean? Jeez, I offer to help and what do you do? You throw back in my face!"

Alistair was rapidly losing patience with the girl. "Look, I just saved you from slavery, so show a little respect or you'll end up without your head." She laughed, but it sounded nervous. "You can't pull weapons in this place without getting blown into unconsciousness by the hidden cannons, offworlder, you saw. Try again!" "And what makes you think I need a weapon to rip your puny frame to pieces?"

That was when Mission noticed just how outclassed she was. Or in other words, how far back she had to tilt her head to look him in the eye. "Uh… right, um… hey, let's get a drink; they're cheap right now…" Alistair didn't say anything; he merely continued to stare her down. Then he changed his mind. "No, no drinks. Let's go get those slave tattoos removed, eh? And that collar, too. Maybe some decent clothes…"

She gaped. "You mean… freedom?" "Yeah, sure, why not? You could be useful." "But… I need the money! See, I get a small bit for every good job I do, and Zaalbar's always hungry, and I don't want to have to steal, and-" "Hey, you saw me beat Niklos and take everything he owned, right? We'll be fine."

She swung back into bubbly mode again; her mood swings were starting to irk Carth. "Hey, yeah! I could show you a few places where you get good deals, and-" "In the mean time, be quiet, ok? We like our silence."

Carth broke in, then. "Hey, what's taking Saino so long?" At that moment, the doors opened. But it seemed that nothing was coming in. They stared for a moment, until Alistair noticed the faint shimmer that indicated someone was being stealthy.

The shimmer walked up to Carth, who still hadn't noticed it. Then his gun came floating up out of its holster, seemingly by itself. This Carth did notice, and he grabbed at the gun. In doing so he brushed at the shimmer, there was a loud sparking noise, and Saino came back into view, rather abruptly, smiling sheepishly and still holding Carth's blaster.

Carth snarled and swung at the other man, connecting solidly with his jaw. Saino flew backward into the wall, where he crumpled and rubbed his jaw. Carth would have gone for more had Alistair not brushed his hand across his jaw. Carth froze instantly, hand still up behind his shoulder.

"We don't need to be fighting like this. We're on the same team, the last I knew. Or have things changed?" Saino got up, looking ashamed of himself. "Uh, yeah… sorry, Carth." Carth still couldn't move, so Alistair made that brushing gesture again. His hand fell back to his side, and he too looked ashamed. "I shouldn't have gone off like that. Just don't ever try to steal my blasters again, ok?" "Sure."

With all that taken care of, they were about to go on to the rest of the cantina when Saino remembered something. "Oh, hey Alistair! Come here, there's something you have to hear…" Alistair hunched over, letting Saino whisper into his ear for a while. When he was through, he straightened; his face looked thoughtful. A plan was forming in his head, a plan that would require much more thought, more players, and much time to put things together. But something told him he didn't have that much time…

_**End of Chapter Three**_


	5. Interlude: DeadEye Duncan!

_**Revan the Barbarian  
**__**Interlude: The Taris Dueling Scene  
**__**Duel One: Dead-Eye Duncan!**_

_Note: Text within parenthesis, (like this,) indicates that aliens are speaking._

Alistair, Carth, Saino, and Mission walked through the cantina. Mission had chained herself to Alistair, explaining that it would look less suspicious since she still had the tattoos of a slave.

One section had the dancing platform, with half-nude Twi-lek girls and Bith musicians swinging and playing. Another was a lounge of some sort. Some snooty girl saw Saino and yelled at him, thinking he was a waiter. He let her yell for a minute, then he said, in a weirdly echoing voice, "I am not your waiter. You will go home and rethink your life." "You are not my waiter. I will go home and rethink my life." She was halfway through the main area when a flustered man with clothing remarkably similar to Saino's ran up with a tray of drinks and gave one to the girl. She took it, then kept on walking.

Carth turned to Saino with an amused look on his face. "What did you do to her?" "Eh, a little application of Force Persuade never hurt anyone, now did it?" "No, I suppose not…" "Quiet." A ripple of noise was going around through the cantina; "A duel's about to start… who's in it? Oh, who cares? Just Duncan and Gerlon…" Carth looked around. "What's going on?" A passing citizen heard and remarked, "Oh, just a duel. It won't be much to watch, if it's just Duncan and Gerlon. Well, there's nothing else to do; let's go watch." They went over to one of the many screens that protruded from the walls of the cantina. They were just flickering to life.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, take a break from your drinks and your games, we've got something going on here! It's… a duel!" The crowd, what little there is of it, cheers. "In this corner, the one-handed wonder, quick on his guns, the clear crowd favorite… Gerlon Two-Fingers!" Another lack-luster cheer. "And in this corner, he's persistent, he's tenacious, he's the quickest to fall since… oh wait, he is the quickest to fall, ha-ha! Back for yet another round… Dead-Eye Duncan! And now, without further ado… begin!_

"_Duncan is the first to draw- oh, he's dropped his blaster! He's fumbling about for it… and Gerlon fires! And would you look there, Duncan is down yet again! Don't worry folks, he's just unconscious! As usual, ha-ha!_

"_That's it for today, folks! Come back next time!"_ The screens shut down, awaiting the next duel.

"Hmm… I hope they take fresh faces; I could use a challenge." "Oh no you don't! You could kill someone in there!" "Uh, I don't think so. The announcer said he was just unconscious, so that means they probably have energy suppressors. They'll be fine, old man." "Mission, I know about the energy suppressors! I'm not worried about his gun, I'm worried about his sword!" "Hey, I'm standing right here. You think you could have a little decency? Anyway, I want a challenge; I'm signing up." There was no arguing with him.

He asked the bartender about the duels, and he pointed to the back of the cantina, to an area they hadn't explored yet. They went in, and found that it wasn't as well lit as the rest of the cantina. Alistair scrutinized the people he saw.

_A middle-aged manholding his side, a blaster gripped in his untrained hand. Duncan, obviously. Bah, not worth my time…_

_A younger man, arrogance in his demeanor, one hand partially blown away. Gerlon. He's not worth it, either. Maybe once, he might have been. But not anymore…_

_A woman, cold and stony-eyed, rapier-style vibrosword held in a hand that knew its work. Hmm, there's a challenge, heh-heh…_

_An old man? Oh-ho, he has the bearing of a champion. And that sword of his… you don't see two-ended vibroswords much nowadays. He'll be a challenge, for sure…_

_Oh, there's got to be a few more… ah, there. The Rodian. He's insane, I can tell that from here. He must be the current champ. But I'll change that before too long, that I will…_

"Yo, Alistair, come back to us." "Huh? Sorry, I was looking my prey over." "Prey? What's that supposed to mean?" "Nothing, that's just my inner self talking." "Riiiight… Hey, there's Ajuur. He's the one we're looking for." "A Hutt? Wonderful…" They walked over to the dais where the bloated, stinking, ancient form of Ajuur the Hutt reclined and observed his limited world.

Ajuur had seen duelists come and go, legends form and dissipate, champions reign and be cut down. He remembered the arrival of Dweego the Rodian, now known as Twitch. He remembered when Marl von Krasen, now simply Marl, was a fresh-faced noble's son with a thing for swords. He was the champion for five years before Gerlon Harkolli came and upset him. People still talked of the accident, three years ago, that took out Gerlon's hand and spirit. He remembered the days before Marl, before Gerlon and Twitch and Emily Fortunata (a.k.a. "Ice"), when duels were deathmatches, and the champion was Bendak Starkiller. Long ago were those days, and longer was the memory of Ajuur.

Now there was a new face, another Mandalorian by the looks of him. He didn't hide behind a mask, either; just an eyepiece, Bothan by the looks of it. _There's an air about this one, an air of mystery. Hmm, he could work; the arena needs new blood! _Dismissing such thoughts for now, he straightened and prepared to speak. (No more bets for now, off-worlder, the next duel isn't until tonight. Come back then.) "I'm not here for bets, Ajuur. I'm here to fight." _I was right about him. He looks like a warrior, born and bred. Ha, he's a Mandalorian, of course he's born and bred to it!_ (Are you now? Eh, you look tough. People bet lots on tough looking duelists.)

(Alright, consider yourself a duelist. Now pay attention; you get ten percent of the pot each time you win. You lose, you get nothing but a free check-up. There are energy suppressors in place, both electrical and kinetic, so there won't be any blood or death. That okay, off-worlder?) "Yeah, sure. I don't like killing when there's no war, anyway." (Smart way to think. Now, if you want, we can set you up right now, let you learn the ropes. Let's see… ah, how about Duncan? He's at the bottom now, and you're a new-comer, so you've got to start at the bottom. Think you're ready?) "For him? Sure, bring it on. But only if my friends get ringside seats." (Ha, you drive a hard bargain! Sure, sure, just head through those doors there. Dead-Eye!)

Alistair didn't wait to hear the rest; he was striding towards the passage he saw in the corner behind Twitch. As he passed by, the crazed Rodian shouted at him, "Hey you, let's go! Bam, pow, kaboom!" The threats were ignored.

Once through the hall, he found a room with a droid attendant. "Ah, hello. You must be the new duelist. Let me examine your weapons…" "I won't be pulling them; I'm gonna use my fists." "Oh? Well, it's just Dead-Eye Duncan, so you'll be okay. Now, you need a name for the announcer to call you out with." Alistair considered for a second, then he shrugged. "Oh, how about the Mysterious Stranger?" "Ah, good name, sir. Now, you are to wait here for the announcements to be made and bets to be placed, then you can go out when I say so."

Alistair sat on the bench and awaited the call. He didn't wait long. He strode out into the ring…

"_Ladies and gentlemen, draw your eyes to the center ring! We've got something special here tonight: a fresh face!" The crowd, rather larger this time than last, cheered. "In this corner; you've seen him lose night after night after night! But this time, he's got fresh meat! Will he finally get past the bottom rung? I give you… Dead-Eye Duncan!" There were jeers and catcalls from the crowd._

"_And in this corner, the new guy on the block! Emerging from the shadows with no history, no past, no name, and just his Mandalorian good looks, I give you… the Mysterious Stranger!" Loud cheering; the crowd was bored with the old set._

"_And now, without further ado, let the duel… begin!_

"_Duncan draws, and look at that, he didn't drop it! He fires! He misses! The Stranger isn't flinching!_

"_He moves! He runs toward Duncan and- oh my gods, Duncan is flying through the air! He's down! Completely unconscious, dropped by a flying side kick! The Mysterious Stranger is the winner, no surprise there!_

_It's a good start, Stranger, but you'll have to fight better people than Duncan to get any respect around here! Well, that's that! Until next time, folks!" A crackle of static indicated that the announcer was gone, and the entertainment was over._

Ten minutes later, Alistair stepped through the doorway, to the sound of cheers from those that were at the view screens. Behind him were a med droid and, on a stretcher, Duncan; despite the suppressors, he had been severely hurt by Alistair's one move.

Alistair ignored the acclamation and headed straight for Ajuur. Ajuur was looking exited. (Good fight, stranger! We haven't seen the likes of you since the Starkiller! Now, like I said; ten percent.) Alistair brought out his datapad, and the creds were transferred to his account.

(Come back tonight; Marl and Ice will be dueling, then we can set you up with Gerlon. Sound good?) "Sure, I'll be here." He turned to his companions, waited while Mission was rechained, then they headed for the exit.

However, on the way out, Alistair's eye fell on a new person; a hulking form covered head to toe in Mandalorian battle armor. Alistair's senses reeled. _Oh man, this guy is strong! _Then he recovered himself, and looked deeper._ He's old, too, very old. At my current level, he would make mincemeat out of me. Ah, he's probably retired, so that's all right._ In the middle of these thoughts, the man in the armor noticed him and stepped over. His voice sounded overly mechanical, even coming from the filters built into all Mandalorian helmets; "Hey, a fellow exile. How do you stand this place?" "How do you stand it, old one?" "Ah, you get used to it after all the years. Say, what clan do you hail from?" "I hail from the Smethwycke clan, of Demeralia VII."

The other man recoiled slightly. "Smethwycke? Weren't they wiped out in the final fight on Malachor V? I didn't know there were any Mandalorian survivors on any side, how did you get out?" "I don't know… for some reason, I can't remember anything past the first few battles I was in. Sorry." "Oh. Damn, I knew I shouldn't have left! I had a chance at endless glory, and I squandered it for this! This rotted backwater of a planet, with nothing but duels and Pazaak to occupy you!" Then he stopped and collected himself. "Oh, by the way, I'm Bendak Starkiller." "I'm Alistair Smethwycke." They shook hands.

"Look, Bendak, I've got to go now. See you around." "Yeah, see you." The armored man went to a corner, despondency coming off of him in waves, as Alistair and his companions stepped back into the afternoon sunlight and filtered air of the Upper City.

_**End**_


End file.
